


You're No Tralfamadorian

by marshmallowdeanie



Category: Supernatural
Genre: AU, Alien Gender/Sexuality, Alien Sex, Alien!Cas, Bottom Castiel, Experimental Style, I'm so sorry, M/M, Made up words, Multi, Other, cas is an alien and he has both m and f sexual organs, cas is sorta nonbinary, human!dean, multigender castiel, multiple sex organs, unapologetic sci-fi loosely based off the sexes in ursula leguin's novel left hand of darkness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2015-03-28
Packaged: 2018-03-20 00:57:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3630705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/marshmallowdeanie/pseuds/marshmallowdeanie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean stumbles upon the alien prince from a faraway galaxy Castiel, things get a little strange. Dean had been meaning to get laid, but he didn’t think God would throw him a piece of ass from another planet.<br/>Vonnegut and H.G. Wells never anticipated an ass like this one.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You're No Tralfamadorian

**Author's Note:**

> * you can read this as a one-shot/standalone, but I may add some chapters in case anyone wants to continue reading
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not claim to be a sci-fi writer. In fact, this was more of an experiment than anything. I really liked the idea of multigender Castiel and I know this falls short, forgive me. I don't do this character justice. But it didn't hurt to try.  
> Also, using the he/him pronouns for Castiel since he's on earth and this isn't long enough for me to get into depth.
> 
> p.s. the made up words are mostly latin or latin mixed with greek mixed with my crazy, stupid, mind. i kind of had the idea that the andromedaians really liked greeks, romans, and sumerians so they kind of kidnapped them and brought them to their galaxy to colonize so they all have greek/latin roots because i say so. andromedaians are really accepting of sexualities and fertility/procreation is super important to them.

_T-minus ten minutes and this shift is over._

 

It’s this mental reassure that Dean needs to give himself in order to muddle through the remainder of his night watch shift in the city park.

 He’s already walked the perimeter ten times--five times short of what he’s required to complete. But tonight Dean’s got a splitting headache, severely overworked muscles, and a deep hankering for a piping hot mug of coffee and a slice of Ellen’s famous cherry pie. Other than that, all Dean wants is to collapse on his couch and not get up again until Monday morning.

 Dean scratches a bothersome mosquito bite on his inner wrist and tugs at his collar. It’s pushing June and the weather’s a little hot and humid--swampy, if you will. Dean passes off deserted basketball courts and empty, broken-down wooden picnic tables with a modest gait. It’s close to six A.M., which is when the park opens up again, Benny shows up, and Dean gets to clock out. It’s the worst post an officer can get assigned to, but Dean deals with it because his department is understaffed after the mayor cut their budget.

It’s still dark out, but the sky is a deep, velvety blue. He heads down the path which he could follow to where his cruiser is parked. It’s been an uneventful night, but it always is. Other than chasing a few pot-smoking teenagers out of the jungle gym, providing the park security is easy, albeit deathly boring.

Something catches Dean’s eye, a contrast against the shadowy foliage of the vast area the park sits on. It’s a pale green light, flashing intermittently, almost like the faraway glow of an eery lighthouse on a darkened bay.

Dean squints, but it’s too dark to tell anything other than that it must be coming from the bottom of the hill, where the pond is at. Dean knows the park’s only lights are the twin lampposts at the entrance gate, but those are no where near the pond and they certainly aren’t a sickly green color.

Puzzled and intrigued, Dean trudges up the slightly muddy hill, not sure what to expect. Nothing he knows of causes a light like this one. It’s bright, not blindingly so, but in a sense that it casts light on trees surrounding the entire area. It’s a very wide open area, too.

Dean gets to the top of the hill and looks down on the pond. It’s dark for a few seconds, and then the green glow illuminates the pond, making the water look almost like it’s under a blacklight. Dean gapes a little, though he still doesn’t see the source of the light. His heartbeat thumps just a little quicker, the nighttime breeze picking up to chill the sweat on the back of his neck.          

He carefully begins his trek down the steep hill closer to the pond, his boots sinking into the soupy ground. He swats bugs, presumably mosquitos, out of his face where they bounce off the back of his hand. _It’s like a goddamn mosquito breeding ground!_ Annoyed and anxious, Dean fumbles for his flashlight under his jacket and pulls it out, then he clicks it on and sweeps the crisp, white beam across the landscape.

 “Park security...anybody down here?” Dean calls in a gruff voice, hopefully sounding more authoritative than he feels. He’s _not_ scared, he’s just... _worried_. He doesn’t want any trouble just before his shift is about to be over.

 No one answers him. There’s no movement, no noise. Crickets fill the silence.

Dean scans the pond and thinks the source of the blinking light is brightest on the opposite side of the pond where a large patch of cattails is. He shines his flashlight in that direction and walks cautiously over. He also tosses a look over his shoulder, just to be safe.

When Dean is right in front of the myriad of cattails, he’s sure the light source must be in this spot. But he can’t really see much without breaking some of the tall weeds away, praying there aren’t any snakes. But as he yanks some of the cattails out, he glimpses the light through them. Whatever it is must be in the water. Dean has no guesses.

Finally, the weeds pushed to the side or otherwise gone, Dean sees it.

The glowing source is the body of a man, lying face up in the water.

 Dean feels like the air is too thick to breathe. The light flashes again and its source is _a body_. _A fucking bioluminescent man?!_ That’s impossible, but Dean stares, unable to move, looking at it with his own two eyes.

The body flashes every few seconds, not at a frantic interval like the lights on a police car, more like, yeah, a weird, green lighthouse. The figure’s skin is like a pale neon sign, or a hologram. For a moment, Dean thinks someone is playing a trick on him.

He plunges one boot into the pond water, followed by the other, to get a closer look. The body moves like a lily pad with the disturbed water, but is otherwise undisturbed. Dean’s shoes, socks, and pants are wet as he wades in water that goes up to his knees and stops, bending down to examine the body.

It is indeed a man. _But what the fuck is Dean looking at? How is it...he... **glowing?**_

 Dean’s not sure if the man is dead or alive, and he wants to touch him to find out, but his heart is slamming against his chest and his stomach is in his throat.

The man’s glow emanates from the man’s chest, still flashing its strange sigil. His skin seems almost translucent, like a human jellyfish. Dean is half afraid to touch it simply for fear of being stung. But Dean reluctantly does anyway, and the skin isn’t slimy or jell-o ish. It’s alarmingly human.

 “Uh, sir?! Sir, can you hear me?!” Dean says loudly, grabbing at the slippery bicep of the man.

 Receiving no response whatsoever, Dean hauls the body towards the edge of the pond again and pulls it out, stretching the man, who glows one last time, onto the marshy grass.

 Dean stares again, waiting for the light to flash in the man’s chest, but it doesn’t. The once bioluminescent-like skin is extinguished like a lantern, and Dean wonders if he’s truly dead now.

Dean knows he should call this in, but he can’t bring himself to do it. Not yet. Not until he’s sure he can’t help this person. He shines his flashlight on the man.

 The man lying on the grass is young, probably not older than twenty, and naked from the waist up. And his skin is green, just like the glowing light from before, and mottled with flecks of a pale, glowing purple.

Dean is stricken, his mind abuzz in an attempt to process the situation. The man’s face is beautiful, serene. He has long eyelashes and his cheekbones stretch the flesh on his cheeks in a way that makes the purple freckles glow. His lips are purple from the water, Dean _assumes_ , but at this poin _t who the fuck knows_?

Even more insane, he’s got large ears with pointed tips and stretched lobes--gauged.

He’s covered by a sort of skirt with large, separate, silver pleats, like a gladiator would wear, which hangs down to mid thigh and would do little to conceal his crotch if not for the garment, like underwear only made of a stronger material, worn underneath. He’s also wearing boots on his feet, but they’re not boots like Dean has on. These ones are black and fitted, extending up just above the knee. He also has a studded belt around his waist.

Dean is in shock. He doesn’t know what to make of all this. He tries again to rouse the man and feels for a pulse.

 Surprisingly, Dean feels…. _something_. It certainly feels like a pulse, but more like heart palpitations. So the guy’s alive, but probably in some kind of critical condition.

 “Hello…? Hey, man...come on...just move your fingers or something if you can hear me,” Dean begs.

 All of a sudden, Dean is startled by a whirring noise like the sound of something mechanical being turned on mixed with the purr of a cat as the man’s eyes snap open. And, _jesus_ , they’re a _fucking iridescent blue._

The man struggles on the grass finding his footing, but then he gets up, eyes blown widely, and begins pacing around the cattails and weeds where Dean pulled him from.

“H-Hey, _wait_! I’m a police officer, do you need help?” Dean calls, frozen in place. He watches the man pace on wobbly legs, apparently looking for something. He’s mumbling some gibberish that _hell_ if Dean can understand as he searches, and then finally turns to face Dean again, who is baffled at the turn of events.

 “You, _terrestrial_ , what have you done with my craft?” the man demands in a smooth but grinding voice. His skin glows subtly like a faint lantern again as he takes a few steps towards Dean.

That’s when it hits Dean. He’s crazy, _god he must be crazy_ , and this is all a dream and Dean is going to wake up having fallen asleep in his cruiser on the job.

 “Y-your what?” Dean stammers, paralyzed.

 The man looks hostile, though he doesn’t have any weapons that Dean can see.

 “Where are my supplies, the remnants of my _terrapod_?!” he insists more urgently.

 “I-I-I don’t know what you’re talking about! I found you laying in the _goddamn_ _pond_ \--I-I thought you were _fucking dead_ \--a-are you...w-what are you?” Dean manages to get out, looking the man up and down.

 He takes a staggering breath and narrows his eyes at Dean.

 “My name is Castiel, prince of _Ver’Aniksi_ , Andromeda,” the man tells Dean in a strange tone of voice. He sounds... _other-worldly_. And Dean swallows the lump in his throat as his eyes widen.

 “ _Andromeda_ …,” Dean repeats breathlessly, “like th-the _galaxy_ Andromeda?”

 The man--the **_alien_** , Castiel lifts his chin to the sky and looks reverently at the stars, which are fading as it gets closer to morningtime.

 “Is there any other? Are you not threatened by my presence in your village? Have you called upon your diplomats to arrest me?” Castiel asks in a challenging tone.

 Dean looks dumbfounded at first. He feels as if he might throw up at any moment.

 “I-- _no_ , I-I want to help you! I haven’t told anyone about...about you, it’s just me out here. Are you hurt?” Dean replies, taking in a shaky breath.

 The alien prince approaches him, stepping very close and touching two fingers to Dean’s forehead, which causes Dean to jump a little when a current runs down his spine at the contact.

“Thank you,” Castiel says quietly, and Dean doesn’t move, just stares in awe. A few beats pass before he takes his fingers away from Dean’s forehead and adds in a level tone, “No, I am not hurt so badly that I cannot recover in half a day’s light. I believe my terrapod has effectively dissolved in your body of water. It seems my effects may have as well,”

“ _Dissolved_?” Dean asks, confusion showing on his face.

 The alien nods once. “Yes. That is their design. It is to keep our presence among terrestrials as secret as possible to you. It must be nothing but silt now,”

“Uh, uh...okay, well, listen....Castiel. My shift is over so I have to radio back to my supervisor to clock me out, uhm...where will you go?” Dean asked, then he bit his lip and clutched his flashlight tightly.

 Castiel considers Dean’s question for a moment, then replies, “I think I’ll go with you,”

“Oh, n-no, no--I mean, not that I don’t want _a_...a…,”

 Castiel smirks, tilting his head sideways at Dean. “You need not be afraid, terrestrial, what is your name?”

 Dean raises an eyebrow, swallowing hard again and sizing up the prince. “I’m Dean. _Officer_ Dean Winchester and this is Lawrence, Kansas....uh, United States of America on, you know... _Earth_ ,”

Dean feels ridiculous. He’s _talking to a fucking martian_. Like an actual fucking _Area 51, Roswell, extra-terrestrial,_ martian. _A fucking hotass alien babe._

“Pleasure to meet you, Dean Winchester. May I accompany you? I trust that you will show me your continued hospitality, and you may trust that I shall do you no harm,” Castiel replies, extending a hand for Dean to shake, he assumes. So Dean tentatively shook Castiel’s hand.

 What else could he do? Dean didn’t believe in aliens until fifteen minutes ago when _this son of a bitch_ crash landed in Lawrence Park’s duck pond, and now this alien prince from the galaxy Andromeda wanted to come home with him? Dean had been meaning to get laid, but he didn’t think God would throw him a piece of ass from another planet.

 Whether it was because Dean felt bad for Castiel or because he was completely out of his mind, Dean nodded.

 “Okay. Okay. Just--listen--we need to hurry up. It’s going to be morning soon and well, no offense, but I think some people would find your green skin a little...weird,” Dean warns, and he breathes out a stressed sigh.

 “Excellent,” Castiel says, flashing his--razor sharp--teeth at Dean with a smile. Dean shook his head slowly; _what the hell did he get himself into_?

 

\---

 

Dean had nervously radioed his supervisor and clocked out for the night, driving his police car home rather than getting his own car from the station. He didn’t want to risk anyone seeing Castiel.

Once they’re in Dean’s garage, he tells Castiel he can get out of the vehicle. They trek across the arid garage silently, and Dean unlocks the door to his house.

 Seeing Castiel in regular lighting knocks the air out of Dean all over again, because the prince looks like a lead in a science fiction adventure movie or something. Except it’s not fiction. _This is real_. Dean has a real alien being in his kitchen.

 “Why are you here?” Dean asks, not in a rude way, but because he’s genuinely wondering. He had so many questions, but it was a start. Why the hell would an alien wanna come to a fucked up planet like earth, where people (Okay, _just Dean_ ) put whiskey in their coffee?

 Castiel was busy looking around the kitchen, his mouth hanging open in awe. Dean’s kitchen was crappy, but he guessed this must be strange to Castiel.

 “Well, I am twenty-one, in terrestrial years. It is just called _tiro iter_ on Ver’Aniksi. Veraniksians don’t count years. They are of little importance, because we do not live long enough in the measure of all time for it to be our concern. Tiro iter is made by all heir of nobility--it is a rite of passage, you could say,” Castiel explains, eyes flashing to Dean in an almost cheeky sort of way. They’re impossibly blue, and his visage is clear and symmetrical.

 Dean pours a shot of whiskey into a coffee mug and waits for the pot of coffee to brew.

 “Okay...so, this is kind of like a pilgrimage or something? What about the other... _Vera_ \--...Veraniksians?” Dean inquires, leaning against his counter top. It occurs to him that Castiel is just standing in the middle of the floor, so he pulls out a chair at his table for him to sit.

 “Coming to Earth is a challenge for me. It is meant to test my strength and to teach me new things that I may find helpful during my rule,” Castiel adds, a proud smile on his lips. Dean stares at the bare expanse of muscular thigh exposed between the top of his boot above his knee and his...honestly, it just looked like a speedo made of cowhide or something. Castiel’s platform heeled boots seemed like leather, but did aliens have leather? _Did they have cows?_ It was too early for this shit.

 “So what are you supposed to do? I mean, are there rules?” Dean asks him.

 “I must stay here for one year’s time. Upon return, I will have my coronation,” Castiel says seriously.

 “So--what til then, wild keggers, human chicks, and _hakuna matata_?” Dean chuckles, finally pouring his coffee and blowing away some of the steam.

 Castiel licks his lips, eyes flickering to Dean’s cup. “You don’t know my people, Dean. Intoxicating beverages are served only to convicts and oracles in Ver’Aniksi,”

 “Cool, I don’t feel like crap now or anything,” Dean snorts with a glance at his bottle of whiskey.

 “You have a different culture. You have only man and woman; we have _three_ genders in the galaxy Andromeda,” Castiel states matter-of-factly.

 “Seriously?” Dean exclaims, taking a gulp of his coffee/whiskey cocktail.

 “It’s true. You’re a male. Terrestrial males have penises and testicles, as do Veraniksian males. Females are also comprised of the same genatalia. But my gender--one that is not seen among terrestrials--are the _omnis_. I have a penis and testicles, but during the springtime, I also have a vagina. In fact, we say he, she, and _zhe_ ,” Castiel explains, and by the end of it Dean had set his mug down with a look of disbelief on his rosy cheeks. He feels flushed with embarrassment.

 “ _O_ -Oh...that’s...that’s interesting. That’s... _wow_ , okay,” Dean replies, hoping he doesn’t sound too offensive. He’s still not really sure if Castiel is dangerous.

 Castiel snickers and Dean feels slightly uncomfortable, but also slightly turned on. _Best of both worlds?_ He tries to give a surreptitious glance downward between Castiel’s legs, but Castiel catches him and the corner of his mouth lifts into a crooked smile. Dean’s heart stops.

 “I know that might sound strange to you, but I promise it all makes comprehensive sense where procreation is concerned. All royals in Ver’Aniksi are omnis. It is considered sacred, though females are even more rare. Our counsel of oracles, _magnasorori_ , are all female, and they are venerated by our society for their year-long fertility. Males are regrettably commonplace and generally regarded as less remarkable, since, compared to omnis and females, they serve the lesser duty of fertility. Nothing personal, Dean,” Castiel says easily, and Dean swore he saw a glint in the alien’s eye as he rearranged his pleated skirt.

 “I’m not offended. I mean, yeah Cas, it sounds pretty crazy, but you’re no Tralfamadorian,” Dean snorts, eyes following Castiel as he stands up. He takes a second look around, inspecting the kitchen.

 “Who are these Tralfamadorians and why are they different from Veraniksians?” Castiel inquires, almost defensively, as he presses down the switch on the toaster. Castiel looks unamused when nothing happens in response.

 “They’re not real, they’re just these aliens from a book I read. Do you read books…? I mean, Earth-people books?” Dean asks, letting Castiel open and close his cupboards.

 Then Castiel stops, turns around abruptly, and closes in on Dean’s personal space. He holds his gaze and when his eyes flicker away, they study Dean’s face.

 “Once, _you_ were just an alien in a book _I_ read,” he admits slowly, and Dean is paralyzed by the intimacy of the moment. He clears his throat, startling Castiel a bit, and side-steps his way out of his position between him and the counter.

 “I’m sorry that I’m a terrible host. Do you want something to eat?” Dean asks encouragingly.

 Castiel only blinks at first, but then he replies.

 “I have heard that fish is plentiful on Earth. It is the only Earth food I’m familiar with. There are Andromadaians who send scouts to this planet specifically for fishing in your oceans to bring back fishes to our planet. They’re a delicacy for us,”

 Dean scratches his head and laughs, “That’s something. I mean, if you’re staying I could pick up some fish at the grocery store for later. I don’t have any in my house. The best I’ve got is probably chicken noodle soup or Lucky Charms. I’m a bit of a disappointment as far as humans go. You should really have picked Beverly Hills to crash into,” Dean chortles, finishing off his coffee.

 Castiel looks perplexed at first, then shrugs. “I have tried neither,”

 “Soup it is,” Dean says, bending over to retrieve a can from his bottom cupboard.

 

The toaster pops up, empty of course, and Castiel jumps in surprise. Dean laughs so hard he has to get a glass of water.

 

\---

 

Castiel eats his fill of soup, claiming it tastes similar to some Ver’Aniksian dish,  and they retire to Dean’s living room where he shows Castiel how the TV works, but Castiel seems to catch on quickly. Something about his grandparents having had one imported when he was a child. Once Castiel was drawn into some awful daytime soap opera, Dean began to drift off. He’d had a long night, and keeping his eyes open just wasn’t an option anymore.

 Dean is startled awake by a banging sound and the loud Kansas song he’d set as his cell ringtone. Grumbling, Dean pulls it from his pocket and answers.

 “H-Hullo?”

 “Dean, would you answer your goddamn door? I’ve been standing on your porch for a half an hour. Don’t tell me you were sleeping….it’s _noon_ ,” a voice, none other than his brother, berates at him through the phone.

 “Shit!” Dean exclaims, standing up and looking around. Castiel is nowhere in sight. Dean feels like he’s going to have a stroke.

 “What?” Sam grumps from the other end of the line.

 “Uh, uh, just gimme a minute, Sam, alright, dammit, I’ll be right there,” Dean says, and then hangs up.

 “Cas?! Cas, we have a problem, where are you?!” Dean calls worriedly. If Sam sees the half-naked humanoid E.T. he’s got stowing away, he’s going to be in such deep shit. His brother Sam works for the FBI.

 Castiel appears on the staircase wearing Dean’s fluffy bathrobe and holding a bowl of cereal. _For fucks sake._

 “What is it? Dean, if your home is under siege I shall--”

 Dean grabs the prince by his shoulder and leads him down the steps, nudging him towards the coat closet.

 “Listen, Cas, my brother is here and he can’t see you, alright? I’ll get him out as soon as I can, but just be quiet, okay?” Dean explains, pushing Castiel into the closet and shutting the door.

 He rushes to the front door and opens it to see a very disgruntled looking younger brother.

 “Hey, sorry,” Dean remarks breathlessly, adrenaline rushing.

 Sam gives him a weird look, walking into the house and allowing Dean to close the door behind him.

 “Whatever. I don’t wanna know. I came over to tell you that it’s Jess’s birthday today so we’re getting a bunch of people together to go out tonight. I know you’re off work, so you’re coming,” Sam says. Sam knows how little Dean gets out. He’s always trying to get Dean to go to some sports bar with him and Jess and their friends.

 “Do I really have to? I’m sure Jess doesn’t care if I’m there or not,” Dean sighs unenthusiastically.

 “I care. So _yes_ , you do. You can bring someone if you want, but you’re coming,” Sam says, and Dean knows that’s the end of it.

 “Is that all you came over here for?” Dean wonders out loud.

 “Basically. And Henrikson told me he didn’t see you this morning to drop your cruiser off, so he wanted me to check on you,”

 “Well, I’m fine. I was just beat after my shift and wanted to come straight home. I was sleeping, so I didn’t hear you knock,” Dean explains quickly. If only Sam knew there was an alien eating Lucky Charms hiding in his closet right now.

 "Okay then. We’re meeting at Patty’s around eight, so,” Sam reminds him, sensing that Dean is being a bit shifty.

 “Gotcha, Sammy, I’ll be there, like it or not,” Dean grins, and he’s all but pushing Sam out the door.

 Once his brother pulls out of his driveway in his car, Dean exhales with relief and opens up the closet door. Castiel is staring up at him, a mixture of concern and confusion.

 “Why did you not introduce me?” Castiel asked, standing up and stepping out of the confines of the closet.

 Dean sighs. “Sam is an FBI agent. If you don’t know what that is, basically they keep tabs on everyone and everything in my country. He’s required to report you. Do I need to remind you that most people would be terrified if they discovered an alien?”

 Castiel bats his long eyelashes, certainly not intending to look so gorgeous, but doing so anyway. “Why are _you_ not terrified?” he asks, tilting his head and standing a little too close.

 Dean’s heart skips a beat. He pauses, then replies, “I kind of am…,”

 “Why?” the alien prince asks him, genuine concern on his face. He gets to his feet again cradling the cereal bowl.

 “To be honest, Cas, I still can’t believe you exist. I mean...I found you lit up like a lighthouse half-drowned less than six hours ago, you invited yourself to stay at my house, and you’re dressed like a _gladiator_ from a planet I’ve never heard of,” Dean confesses, his brow furrowed. He is still exhausted and sick to his stomach.

 “ _Ver’Aniksi_ ,” Castiel chokes out, and Dean feels terrible, but he knows he’s only spoken the truth.

 “I’m _sorry_ , Cas. It’s just a lot for me to take in and I’m extremely tired after working all night,” Dean tells him softly.

 “I don’t wish to inconvenience you, Dean Winchester...I am only here to study. You’re a good man,” Castiel says dejectedly.

 Dean is hypnotized by Castiel’s beauty, but he doesn’t say so. His bottom lip only quivers with the wish to kiss the young prince.

 “Do you think you can let me have just like four hours of sleep? You must be tired, too, yeah?” Dean breathes, hoping for a compromise.

 “Of course. Where should I bunk?” Castiel asks, brightening a little.

 “You can sleep in my bed. I’ll take the couch. I can’t have Ver’Aniksian royalty sleeping on an ancient sofa,” Dean says with a small smile, which Castiel returns gratefully.

So they nap, and when Dean wakes up, it’s five in the afternoon, which for anyone else would be an absurd time to wake up, but Dean works the night shift and to his surprise, he learns that Ver’Aniksians are typically nocturnal. That's why they've all evolved to give off their own light. Castiel is still asleep when Dean passes his bedroom to check on him before getting in the shower. He can’t help but crack a smile.

Castiel is still asleep when Dean passes his bedroom to check on him before getting in the shower. He can’t help but crack a smile.

 And Dean definitely doesn’t slide his palm over his dick while thinking about the cute little alien prince on his knees, his beautiful lavender-pink lips stretched wide around him. Definitely doesn’t imagine the throaty purr Cas might make if Dean ate him out, or about making those strong, warrior’s thighs shake when he comes. _And of course,_ Dean doesn’t come on the shower wall wondering if it’s springtime on Ver’Aniksi.

 

\---

 

Castiel’s dark hair is standing on end when he wanders sleepily into the bathroom where Dean is already dressed and shaving his face to go out with Sam and Jess.

 “Good morning, sunshine,” Dean mumbles, focused on running the razor across his chin.

 “Hello, Dean. What are you doing?” Castiel asks.

 “Uh, shaving. I’m meeting Sam and his girlfriend at a bar tonight. I don’t really know what you’ll do while I’m gone…,” Dean replies.

 “Veraniksians are naturally hairless. Except for our heads. Maybe I might go with you?” Castiel offers.

 Still trying to get past the naturally hairless thing, Dean considers it.

 “I mean, you’re not _that_ green, like...you’re sort of more... _opalescent_ , really,” Dean states, wiping the excess shaving cream from his neck with a towel. “I could put some self-tanner on your face and neck and you’d look a little more normal. And if I put you in long sleeves and pants, no one would notice. As long as you don’t show your teeth too much…,”

 Castiel nods and Dean totes him along to his bedroom, digging through his drawers for something that wouldn’t be hideously big on Castiel. He settles on some old jeans that Dean neglects anymore because they’re a little tight on him and a black t-shirt. He could let Cas borrow a jacket to cover his arms.

 Dean goes to wait for Castiel downstairs. When Cas emerges in Dean’s clothes, Dean’s heart does a little flutter.

 “You’ll blend right in, especially because the bar will be dark,” Dean assures him, combing his fingers through Castiel’s unruly hair a little in an attempt to tame it. Castiel watched him appreciatively, and Dean swore he saw a magenta tint in the prince’s cheeks.

 “Dean, my ears,” Castiel mentions with embarrassment.

 “Oh, shit! Uh…,” Dean digs through the closet for a hat, and the best he can find is a dark gray beanie. He pulls it down over the alien’s pointed ears and grinned at him.

 “I think I’ll find this experience with you most agreeable,” Castiel says warmly.

 “You’ll have fun. Just don’t mention that you’re Spock,”

 

\---

 

As much as Dean wanted to have several beers and take a cab home drunk, he knew he needed to make sure that Cas’s disguise held up, so he limited himself. Castiel refused any alcohol, so Dean ordered him a Sprite and he seemed pleased. Castiel found it extremely entertaining when they sang Happy Birthday to Jess, even though he didn't know the words. And as it turned out, Sam proposed. Jess said yes, as Dean and everyone knew she would. They were more in love than any couple Dean had ever seen.

The only time where Dean worried that their cover was blown was when Castiel presented Sam with a wedding gift (i.e. the temperature knob he'd ripped off from Dean’s stove).

Other than some very strange looks, Dean blamed Cas being drunk and everyone laughed it off.

 

They arrive at Dean’s well past one in the morning.

Dean looks over his shoulder as he’s unlocking the door to the house, expecting to see Cas at his side, but the alien is standing at the garage door, peering out of the long window.

 “Cas? Hey, ready to go inside?” Dean asks.

 Castiel looks at Dean, and then back out the window, so Dean pulls his keys from the door and the metallic jangle is the only sound. He walks up behind Cas and looks out the dusty window with him.

 “What are you looking at?” Dean asks him carefully after a minute.

 “The stars,” Castiel whispers, entranced.

 Dean takes Castiel’s hand gently and tugs. “We can go outside and look,” he tells him. At this promise, Castiel follows Dean out the side door and onto the front lawn.

 Dean watches him as he looks up at the night sky. It’s clear, and Dean feels a bit dumb because he can only pick out the Big Dipper. Castiel is a _prince_ on some planet thousands of lightyears away, and he probably knows the galaxy the way Dean knows Lawrence Park. It suddenly occurs to Dean that he’s never even left Lawrence. He’s never left his own country….yet here was Castiel, a traveling wavelength of ethereal beauty from worlds away.

 “Can you show me Andromeda?” Dean asks in the quietest voice he’s ever mustered.

 Castiel moves closer, their shoulders brushing, and points. “Look, there, at Cassiopeia--it points. And the Great Square of Pegasus. Those are your guides--Andromeda is the dim, faraway light there between,”

 It takes Dean a moment to see it, but when he does, he feels a swell of emotion. He feels like a speck of dust. “ _Wow_ …,”

 Castiel smiles serenely and glances at Dean before murmuring, “Terrestrials theorize that in four billions years time, my galaxy will collide with your Milky Way galaxy,”

 Dean tears his eyes away from Andromeda to look at Castiel, whose face is right there, and damnit, Dean leans in ever-so slowly and touches his lips to Castiel’s.

 Castiel doesn’t move at first, let’s Dean cautiously suck his bottom lip into his mouth, and then he gently wraps his arms around Dean’s neck. Dean kisses the alien boy slowly, savoring the soft press of their hot lips sliding against one another. Dean cups Castiel’s cheek and strokes his thumb across it softly, just barely feeling the brush of his fluttering eyelashes over his fingertip.

Dean lets out a hot breath over Castiel’s mouth, releasing his lips. Castiel whispers to him, “ _Take me to bed_ ,”

 

Dean’s pretty sure he leaves his shirt and shoes in the garage on their way into the house. Castiel has a strange knack for removing clothes, probably because he never wore much any to begin with. They barely pull apart.

Either way, Dean is carrying a very naked extraterrestrial into his bedroom and pressing him carefully against his mattress. Dean’s erection in still confined to his boxers, but Castiel does away with them and pulls Dean down on top of his lithe body. They kiss some more, and Castiel draws some blood when he bites Dean’s bottom lip.  

Dean reaches between Castiel’s legs and strokes his small cock. It’s the same gorgeous color as the rest of him until Dean gives it attention, and then it’s swollen and pearly pink. He’s never seen anyone make a more beautiful face than the one Castiel makes as Dean nudges his face between Castiel’s legs where he’s warm and wet in more than one place.

 “ _God, Cas_ ,” he hums against the prince’s inner thigh.

 It’s not weird for Dean, and it’s really not that difficult to imagine. Castiel’s vagina is where Dean knew he would find it, behind Castiel’s balls. Dean licks into him slowly, and his body shudders. He wiggles his tongue as deep as he can manage, pressing forward. Castiel’s asshole is the next thing to receive a flick from Dean’s tongue, causing the alien prince to shudder again and let out a purring hum.

 “You’re beautiful,” Dean mutters, and he _fucking means it._

 Cas grabs at the back of Dean’s head, hands and long fingernails in Dean’s hair. Dean divides his time equally, licking at Castiel’s cunt until he’s mewling and squirming and then alternating to his rim. Dean is just wet _everywhere_ \--his chin, his nose, his neck, even his _eyelashes_ are wet with Cas’s lubricant. It’s so hot that Dean grinds his cock against the mattress as he eats Castiel’s holes.

Cas doesn’t even care when he yanks Dean close for a kiss, his heavy cock nudging against Cas’s cunt. Dean wants to watch Cas’s face, wants to _see_ him while he fucks him. Dean presses his forehead to Cas’s and pushes the head of his cock past his opening, meeting his dark gaze. Castiel’s eyes roll back in his head and his pushes his hips down.

 Dean thrusts easily, taking care to bite tiny bruises into the skin on Cas’s neck and throat. He grips each of Cas’s smooth thighs in his hands and spreads his legs wider, bottoming out and making the prince moan loudly against Dean’s lips. Dean grunts with the force of his thrusts, and Castiel jostles on the mattress, little “ _oh, oh’_ s” spilling over his kiss-swollen lips.

 Castiel whimpers at the loss when Dean pulls out, only to arch his back like a cat when Dean pushes past the rim of Cas’s ass this time.

 “ _Dean_ ,” Cas keens softly, digging his nails into Dean’s back. Dean swears their very gravity pushes them against each other. And he can’t believe this is happening, that he has this stunning prince lying beneath his body, so small and pretty.

 Dean speeds his hips and thrusts harder. He holds one of Cas’s hips and sinks three fingers into Cas’s cunt while he fucks his ass. Castiel doesn’t even touch his cock before his whole body convulses and he comes like a busted faucet on Dean’s cock, spilling over his own tummy and dripping hot over Dean’s fingers. His hole clenches around his cock and Dean pulls his fingers out of his cunt, moving them up to Cas’s mouth. He sucks languidly at Dean’s fingers, still shuddering from his orgasm. His body gives off that faint pale green glow again, like stars on the bedroom ceiling, and it’s the _hottest_ thing Dean’s ever seen. He slams his hips into Cas erratically through his orgasm moments later, eyelids fluttering shut.

 Dean collapses on top of Castiel and it’s lights out.

 

When Dean wakes up, there’s sunlight filtering in through his sheer bedroom curtains and he’s freezing because apparently he never covered himself up before going to sleep. Dean squirms around looking for the corner of the white sheet on his bed, then pulls it over him and Cas.

 _Castiel_.

Dean noses at Cas’s tummy, which he’s used as a pillow all night. Cas is letting out quiet, buzzing little snores. When he remembers last night, Dean suddenly feels completely boneless.

He lies awake without rousing Cas just thinking. About Cas, about aliens, about Andromeda, about Sam and Jess.

Dean’s universe was so small until just yesterday. One day made Dean rethink his entire existence. One person. Dean suddenly wonders if Jess came from some far off star, just for Sam. He’d believe it. The universe is so vast and strange.

There are greater things than himself out there, and one of them is lying in his bed with him right now.

  
Dean wants to ask Cas to _stay_.


End file.
